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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217803">Introspection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DankTempsey/pseuds/DankTempsey'>DankTempsey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call of Duty Zombies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:08:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DankTempsey/pseuds/DankTempsey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As Richtofen travels timelessly through the his mind, he is greeted with memories and introspective conversations with his allies.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Introspection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys (: <br/>It’s been forever since I’ve written. I hope you all enjoy. If you’d like, leave feedback, a kudos, and a nice comment (:❤️</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What could I have planned to come from this? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I find myself asking that same question daily, if not </span>
  <span class="s2">hourly</span>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The statement always blooms from requited energy I receive from my former self. Well, more accurately, my future self. I personally love detaching my existence to me—the </span>
  <span class="s2">other</span>
  <span class="s1"> me.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Seemingly enough, as I travel through the countless thoughts I pose in my mind, and recount the minutes spent deconstructing my consciousness, I realize that... perhaps I am not even me. That I am not even the other me’s. And surely, that I do not even exist.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I guess I came to such a conclusion when Takeo and I were speaking of spirituality. He’s always had a knack for such things. Even when propositioned with the idea that we would have to confront (and murder) our older selves, the man merely cracked an understanding smile, meager in its own happiness.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I figured he was doing so to seem composed—to show me, the all-knowing-doctor, that he had no interest in showing a faulty pride. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It turns out, it was quite the opposite.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Takeo.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Edward.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I see you’ve become familiar with your quarters while here on the island. Enjoying your room?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It is quite warmer than our last destination. The snowfall caused such terrible insulation. I enjoy the tropics. It seems more inviting.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I smiled at his comment, almost feeling thrilled he was content. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Surprisingly, it did not take a lot to make Takeo happy these days. I believe it’s because he finds gratitude in everything he receives. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Everything</span>
    <span class="s1">.</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sat on the lower bunk of his bed, still too tall for the railing to not squeeze my head in sideways. I stayed there, uncomfortably, with my eyes wandering about his room.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Folded clothing, neatly tucked in corners or dresser drawers he found. His katanahigh above, stacked on a makeshift mount. Extra shoes fit neatly between the yellow wall, and the undercarriage of his A/C unit.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I focused back onto Takeo, who was tending to wounds only he’d know of. It felt foreign to watch him be vulnerable in front of me. I felt like I wanted to cover my eyes, maybe give him the benefit of knowing I care about his privacy, or more so my own. Nonetheless, he continued, and I looked away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“... Are you afraid?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This aroused his attention. We locked eyes quickly, catching him mid-wrap on his exposed leg.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My favorite about Takeo is how telling his eyes were. He didn’t need to say anything, I could just hear his answer through them. Though, something rather off this time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was an emptiness behind his eyes, a true and dull neutrality. Looking at him now, felt as if he and I were back at the beginning of this whole mess—his gun pointed at me, as I stood over Maxis’ cadaver.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I could feel the flush on my cheeks now, as I felt it then too. I could feel the blood on my hands now, as I did then as well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I believe this question was what Dempsey would call, “word vomit”. I had the habit of doing this when getting uncomfortable with certain “energies” of conversations, or my surroundings if invaded.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite that, I feel as if I’ve invaded Takeo.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite his off guard reaction, he seemed very composed and cut straight to his assumption of the topic.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, Edward. I am more ready than anything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For your—</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">eh</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">, pardon. His... demise?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Takeo responded a with a nod, continuing to wrap his torn thigh.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I wasn’t really expecting him to say much. Takeo has always been so stoic, no matter the situation. I find myself pining for his much recognized composure. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I wasn’t much composed after coming to terms with having to murder my future self. I spiraled incessantly. I became the mad scientist archetype that I’ve always hated, analyzing and rationalizing my future actions, detaching myself from that man, and detaching myself from who I thought I was. It felt almost helpless. I felt almost helpless.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you still struggle with having killed your older self?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When did he get so communicative.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I paused. Reflected. And responded.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“... yes. Yes I do, Takeo.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Takeo’s expression melted into a frown, a very understanding, nearly comforting, frown.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How does it make you feel?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How does it make me feel, knowing that I will never </span>
  <span class="s2">ever</span>
  <span class="s1"> become that monster, saving many lives of Group 935, Dr. Maxis, my sister Samantha, you and the others, Takeo? Heroic. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How does it feel to know I have killed off my future self, thus changing our time space continuum, harming many innocent lives and futures, even throwing you all in peril once again, until we have finished all that I have started? Terrible.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite my internal thoughts, I settled on a few words that conveyed the message clearly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It makes me feel weird.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Takeo huffed an awkward laugh, seeing through my ego and right into my soul. He was great at reading people. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anything else?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His interest piqued my interest. I wanted to question him and ponder and wonder why he wanted to know all of this. Was it that vital, personal, classified information that Nikolai spoke of while explaining what Russian intel gathering was like? Or was he genuinely trying to be a friend at this time?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I...”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As I trailed off, I choked up. I guess my emotional state was more fragile than I assumed it to be. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Takeo steps towards me, and kneels face level. He places his hand on my shoulder, and nods his head, “go on.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We decided to move the discussion outside.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I felt as if I was learning more from Takeo than he’d ever learn from me.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I restricted a lot of my planning from the others. It was only because I felt my intellect was far more superior than anything these men could imagine, or truly comprehend. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After discussing life or death matters with Takeo, I feel my view has changed rather drastically.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We sat there, contemplating new discussion topics after relating to one another of our apprehension for the future. I felt less alone, and more understood. I finally felt like I wasn’t the only one in the universe.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The silence felt inviting. I didn’t fear it as I usually would, like with Nikolai. I found it was important to, as Takeo put it, “hold space” for myself, and reach a state of bliss instead of fear. To invite in the silence, and to allow myself to be alone with... well, myself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maybe I’m more spiritual than I thought.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I would pin myself as the very anti spiritual scientist, combating beliefs with science. But that would go against everything, </span>
  <span class="s2">everything</span>
  <span class="s1">, I’ve seen to date. I feel to my core, that I know, that would go against my scientific pursuits, of being a Scientist, as well.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I also know that is also an archetype I don’t like.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How did you cope, Richtofen, with having killed your older self?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Detachment and dissociation. By removing myself completely from who that man was, and who I would have become.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Takeo licked his lips, and pulled the reigns of the words that stood on the tip of his tongue, as if he were trying to gather himself. Perhaps what I said sparked a cord within him to putt another spiritual thought my way.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I assumed correctly, as Takeo reached out to touch my shoulder again and he leaned in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I felt as if he were going to tell me the secret of the Universe.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In fact, he whispered, “may I share something with you, Edward Richtofen?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I didn’t know I’d be so close to Takeo to receive such advice. His expression remained earnest and trusting the entire time we spoke. To be able to be close with the samurai was an entirely belonging energy. Maybe I cared a little too much for his expectations of me. Perhaps it was more of how I doubted his wisdom, and I harbored an apologetic reminder in my head the whole discussion.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I managed through my thoughts, sputtering on my words, “um... </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">please</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">. Yes, you may, Takeo.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before I knew it, I was encouraged to sit in a meditation pose. My feet were crossed at the ankles, my back was straight, and I placed my palms on my knees (my eyes were closed as well). Some part of me felt like this was a really bad idea. Of course, the other half wanted to discover this moment of new information, and see if it would bring me new knowledge in my present life. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now breathe, Edward.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In and out...? Or should I—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take a deep breath in, and then expel all of the air you intake.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He remained silent as I settled within my body. A few minutes went by, and he continued.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Think of the air you breathe. How the plants are nourishing your every breath—how your lungs expand as you take it in. Remember how I breathe and replenish from the same oxygen, as does Dempsey, as does Nikolai.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Feel your breath radiate out to the plants, how you return the energy, and nourish them back. Imagine how far your air expands as you exhale. Imagine your air expanding out into the galaxy above us.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bring your focus to your belly. What emotions do you harbor here?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peace.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What emotions would you like to bring into yourself?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Courage.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pull from the timeless Universe, moments where you found courage, and place them into your presence—into your essence.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Moments of courage... ?</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Indubitably, the first thought that came to my mind </span>
  <span class="s2">was</span>
  <span class="s1"> from the time of offing my older self. My idea was to step from the teleporter, and at least have a moment of violent struggle. I imagined it breaking into a brawl, where he’d end up with a gun to my head, threatening to shoot the others, if they got close or attempted to intervene. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I remember eyeing him. Looking for a weapon he would have. Looking for an opening to be able to shoot him. And even before that, waiting for him to open the device. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The others psychologically manipulated him into opening the teleporter, which struck a nerve of empathy. My own scientific wonder and naivety got </span>
  <span class="s2">that</span>
  <span class="s1"> me killed. I’m sure that’s how I went in my other lives too.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It ended rather well. I am not one for pride, and yet, I felt very confident as I walked over my deceased body. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I looked at the crime scene after we had finished up our last shooting sprees of the undead. A pure gunshot between my eyebrows, blood and bits of my brain spilt across the concrete. Eyes crossed in a cartoon fashion with a deadly lock jaw of shock.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I now realize how much sadness I held within myself then. And yet, I persisted on.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now, open your eyes.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I didn’t want to open my eyes. I wanted to stay in this calming bliss for the rest of my life. I wanted to exist in this feeling of courage, and maybe even... appreciation?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I looked at Takeo. He too, had been meditating with me—him in a much more advanced meditating position. We synchronized a breath together, and exhaled as well.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As I believed that was the end of his introspective words, he proved me wrong.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We are all connected, Edward Richtofen. I am connected to my older self, as you are connected to your older self, as we are connected to each other. The idea of separation is an illusion. Once we learn this, we see life more clearly, and accept death as only another stage, as is marriage or even adolescence.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sat with that image for a while—me being connected to everything, everyone, and every moment in my life. I was connected to Takeo, Nikolai, and Dempsey. To Maxis and Samantha. To the past, and the present.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Takeo stood, and preformed a low bow, “it has been an honor to speak with you, Edward Richtofen.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I quickly rose before him, reciprocating the stance, with my hands on my thighs and head weighing my body down.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We held the position for a few seconds, until we synchronized a break, and he left.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I don’t recall what part of the meditative exercise made me conclusively end with the idea of my nonexistence. Frankly, I believe it was at the end, when I had began to process how connected I was to everyone, and everything.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This further lead me to think of my other allies, Nikolai and Dempsey. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I proceeded along to Nikolai’s corridors.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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